


Sibling Solidarity

by tigerlilycorinne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because of she-who-must-not-be-named, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Mentions of Gender Dysphoria, Siblings are good siblings, Siblings solidarity, Trans Character, Very brief Hinny, but fights happen, linny - Freeform, multiple actually, romione, trans!Ron, trans!ginny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/tigerlilycorinne
Summary: Sometimes Ron doesn't quite know how to show his girlfriend or his sister how much he loves them. Sometimes Luna's not sure what pronouns to use. Sometimes Ginny can't stop staring at Luna, who is not her boyfriend. Sometimes Hermione guesses feelings wrong. Sometimes after a war can be quite confusing.But here's what's always true: Ron loves Hermione and Ginny very much. Luna is never not an angel, and Harry is never not a big-hearted idiot. Ginny is stubborn as the world is round. Hermione figures things out quickly. Everyone always assumes the worst.And for everything that goes wrong, something goes right.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 104
Collections: Fics for Dysphoria, HP TransFest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta reader: [AlexanderJames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderJames)  
> Sensitivity Reader: [pisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pisaster/pseuds/pisaster)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to my beta reader, [AlexanderJames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderJames), for catching my mistakes.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to my beta reader, [pisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pisaster/pseuds/pisaster), for being a second line of defense and for helping me through messy pronouns and confusing scenes. 
> 
> All remaining mistakes and strangely worded (see: bad) phrases are my own.

“I’m not brooding,” Ginny grumbles, glowering at a perky-looking daisy peeking from out of the grass by the edge of the Great Lake. She’s _not_. She’s just feeling particularly dark towards all things bright and beautiful today- the whole day seems infuriatingly determined to be bright.

The clouds are fluffy. The lake’s ripples sparkle. The daisies look like they’ll make her smile or die trying, and they can die, Merlin dammit, the sun is out. And Luna’s the worst of them all. Their hair’s got a dozen daisies all braided in, and the end of their halfway braided, untied hair flutters loosely, white-golden in the sun. 

“Yes you are,” Luna informs her knowingly, “the nargles are all over you. They really like your hair.” They smile serenely out at the lake, seemingly content with the way the sun jumps off the water and stabs people in the eye. “Why are you upset?”

Ginny ignores that. “You’ve got daisies in your hair,” she tells Luna instead, “Do nargles like daisies?” Are nargles even real? Maybe not, but the subject makes Luna smile, so does it really matter?

“I just put them in.” Luna reaches up to touch their hair, knocking several daisies crooked. Somehow, they look even better with an off-kilter look. It suits them, seeing as they’re the embodiment of off-kilter. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

Ginny swallows, and the ache in her chest comes back full force. She came here to _avoid_ Luna, damn it all. She can’t bear this much longer. 

“You’re sad,” Luna says.”

 _I know_. “Come here.” Ginny waves Luna closer. “They’ve gone wonky.”

Luna sighs softly, a bit mournful. They stare down at their feet as Ginny fixes the flowers one by one. “ _I’m_ rather wonky, don’t you think?” 

Ginny’s heart cries quietly in her chest. “Yes,” she answers finally, “but only in the best of ways.”

She _had_ been brooding, and she’d been so busy brooding she’d failed to notice that Luna, too, had been…

Well Luna didn’t really brood. Moping, maybe.

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?” A lock that has escaped the long plait falls into Luna’s eyes, and Ginny reaches over, tucking it behind their ear.

“After you figured out you’re a girl- how did you feel? Did you ever feel like a boy?” Luna scrunches up their face at the words _boy_ and _girl_ like they bring a bitter taste to their mouth.

“Er- no. I felt like other people _saw_ me as a boy, sometimes, but I never felt like I _was_ one. Not inside.” Ginny traces Luna’s cheekbone with her thumb lightly, before she realizes what she’s doing and pulls back quickly.

She has a _boyfriend_ , for Merlin’s sake.

But she’s never wanted anything more than she wants Luna right now, with their braid and soft, sparking eyes, and the voice of a fucking angel.

She has to remind herself that the last thing Luna needs on their plate is a pining best friend.

Luna bites their lip. They keep avoiding Ginny’s eyes, which isn’t like them at all- normally, they stare at whoever they’re talking to with a soft, halfway unsettling stare. “Sometimes I feel like a girl,” Luna admits, very small, “and sometimes I feel like a very girly something else entirely. Like a unicorn. A unicorn isn’t a gender but it isn’t nothing at all.” They look off thoughtfully into the distance. “It just _is_.”

For all Luna’s craziness, some people fail to see just how much sense their words make. “I know what you mean. I don’t know how it feels, but I think I get what you’re saying. You don’t have to be anything. You also don’t have to be a girl to use she-her.”

Frustration flashes across Luna’s face, and the shock of it leaves Ginny breathless. She knows Luna’s human, but they feel so ethereal, sometimes she forgets they can feel things like anger and frustration. Ugly feelings. “I don’t feel like _they_ ,” Luna says vehemently.”

“I’ll call you anything you like.”

“I don’t _know_ what I’d like,” Luna whispers, voice edged with despair.

Ginny swallows. She gets moods from losing a quidditch match, she hasn’t even broken up with her boyfriend even though she’s known she isn’t attracted to boys for half the time they’ve been back together (which, granted, hasn’t been that long.) How is _she_ of all people, qualified to give someone advice about something like this?

“Maybe I’m a girl.”

Ginny looks at Luna. “You don’t have to choose a box just because it fits better than the other ones.” 

Ginny thinks back to the beginning of the year. _I use they-them,_ Luna had said, _but I’m not sure if that’s really right. I don’t think I can be in a romantic relationship until I figure it out._ It hadn’t caused quite so much distress then, but Luna had always been spacey, and Ginny might have simply not noticed. But now with what Luna’s saying... If Luna _really_ feels so, and it sticks…

“I want to go by she-her.”

Running her thumb over Luna’s knuckles, Ginny looks into Luna’s eyes. Conflict and determination fight a brutal battle between them. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” Luna squeezed Ginny’s hand tight enough to make Ginny fear for her bones. “I think so, yes. I’ll try it, anyhow.” Luna’s staring at Ginny’s lips. Ginny’s heart is beating out of her chest.

She should give it time. She knows she should give it time. Merlin, but Luna’s right there, strong and soft and very much like a unicorn. She can’t stop staring.

“Oi, little sister!” Ron runs past, grinning and chasing down an obviously spelled snitch on foot. It flutters just out of his reach in little puffs of speed, obviously badly charmed. Probably Ron, or possibly-

Ginny steps away just as Harry runs into view, his hair a mess. “‘Lo.”

“Lo,” Ginny returns flatly, and returns to brooding. Beside her, Luna toys with her earrings- long, dangly things that end in feathers that brush her shoulders. They’re made of clear colored glass beads, round, angular, and asymmetrical.

Try as she might to separate cause from fault, she resents Harry a bit for bursting in on them, and Ron even more for bursting in before Harry. It isn’t Harry’s fault he puts Ginny in a bad mood- it’s nothing he did. Just like it isn’t his fault he doesn’t even notice Ginny’s in a bad mood in the first place. He tried, and she knows this, he just isn’t very good at reading people, generally imperceptive as he is.

Luna, in contrast, understands everyone and everything. She could feel the heartbreak of a lost kneazle from miles away, Ginny’s sure of it. She’s just… like that. Occasionally, Ginny gets the overwhelming urge to drag Luna to the edge of the lake- because she seems to belong there, in the most crystal part of nature, right on the edge of reality- and beg her _teach me_ . _How do you do it?_

But things like that can’t be taught- the hapless grace, the helpless elegance, the otherness, like half of her is part angel and keeps forgetting she’s on the ground. Some wonders just _are_ , and the next best thing is for Ginny to attach herself to this one and never let go, latch on and follow, drawn like a baby turtle to the light of a full moon.

Luna’s shoulders have hitched imperceptibly higher. “I think I will head inside,” she decided, and Harry, ever the gentleman, bounds after her, wondering aloud if perhaps she’d like a coat and oh, they’ve got snacks in the kitchen and has she seen Draco lately because he looks pretty hungry sometimes, does she think he’s hungry…

“Are you two ever going to study for anyth- where did Harry go? He’s got an essay due tomorrow, and so do you, Ronald, just because we’re free of Voldemort doesn’t mean we’re free of homework.” She summons the snitch. 

“Yes ma’am,” Ron mutters, looking thoroughly put out.

The stern expression melts from Hermione’s face and she steps closer to her boyfriend, tugging him closer by his tie. Ginny deliberately turns back to the lake, but she can still hear them- Hermione murmuring and Ron’s light tone. Then there’s nothing being said and there are almost definitely kissing.

Damn it all, even Ron gets some. Ginny and Harry are just best friends with the wrong label.

The lake ripples, and a breeze sweeps across the surface of it, as if determined to drive home the fact that today is a good day Ginny is out of place in it. It even smells nice, like fresh pine and spring.

Closing her eyes, Ginny tries to be at peace. She’s not quite sure how to go about doing it, and she certainly has never managed to quell the restlessness inside her, but she tries anyway, with deep breaths through her nose, because that’s what everybody says works. 

There’s nothing romantic about restlessness. It isn’t the sweet, quiet yearning Luna has in her eyes when she gazes out across the world from Ravenclaw tower, or the boundless, eager energy Harry exudes as he tumbles through the air on a broom. It isn’t even the burning fire in Hermione that demands she know everything and consumes information like fuel. Ginny’s restlessness is straight discontent with a shot of bitterness.

Happily ever after is just like before war, except she’d gotten back together with Harry (really, she shouldn’t’ve, but she didn’t think that after everything, he deserved a rejection) and neither of them really seem to like it. 

Harry’s obsessed with Malfoy (again) and Ron and Hermione had the whole couple thing going on.

For all their shit, she needs the twins’ jokes desperately, their comedic timing that was as impressive as it was funny… but Fred… and George is a ghost of who he had been.

Aside from George, everyone has their happily ever after now. They’re _content_.

Ginny sticks out like a sore thumb.

~~~

“Stop stop stop.” Hermione pulls away, her eyelashes knitted tight. Ron’s fingers, wound in her wild, free mass of curls, silken and springy beneath his fingertips, twitch in her hair, wanting instinctively to smooth the crease between her brows. “We should talk, I think.”

“Now?” Ron’s fingertips feel like they’re on fire where they rest on Hermione’s cheek, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips warm. Kissing doesn’t take words, and by the lake, they won’t do anything past kissing. He blinks hard at the thought and swallows down the cold stone in his stomach. He’s never been good with his words.

Hermione bats his hand away, but holds onto it. Even though she squeezes his hand, it stings. “Maybe we should talk about last night.”

He looks down at her lips, full and rich pink from the bite of the cold spring breeze. She always gets colder sooner than he does- where he’s wearing his normal robes, she’s half bundled like late winter, complete with a scarf and an ugly Weasley sweater. His heart swells in his chest at the sight. “Maybe we do it later.”

The air smells like roses and flowery shampoo when Hermione shakes her head. “You’ve been avoiding me all day. When, if not now?”

Merlin three times over, this woman and her scheduling. “I dunno, _later_.”

Hermione steps back, effectively placing herself at least a foot away from Ron. Cool air rushes between them as if reminding him of the warmth that was there a moment ago. As if taking brutal pleasure in pushing them apart. If she’d just let the matter _go_ for Merlin’s sake.

“That’s not any more specific.”

Ron snaps back, annoyed. “Why does it need to be? Bloody hell, give me some space to live, will you?”

Hermione’s brown eyes flash. “Oh honestly, you’re the one who wanted to kiss me, so I think that’s rather hypocritical of you. I don’t want to kiss you unless you talk to me about last night _first_.

That’s just ridiculous and hurtful and Ron never wants to talk about last night. Ever. Or have a repeat of last night. Ever.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” He curls his hands into fists and forces himself to release them when the nails bite into his skin. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Hermione sticks her nose up the way she does when she’s feeling particularly disappointed by the person she’s talking to. That being, in this instance, Ron. “There’s more to a relationship than _kissing_ , and you know it. One of those things is _communication_ about _boundaries._ ”

“‘Mione-”

“I crossed one last night, and don’t you dare tell me I didn’t, I _know_ you-” Ron flinches at the memory of his reaction last night, the memory of Hermione’s hand slipping down his hips and him all but leaping for the door. “How am I supposed to not cross any lines if you won’t tell me what those lines are?”

The baleful stare he receives snaps something inside him that has been simmering since the time she pushed at him demandingly during breakfast. “I didn’t _blame_ you for it or any of that bollocks,” he shoots back, “Don’t make it out like-”

“ _I_ blame me!” Hermione’s voice cracks on the last word, and all hell, she looks like she’s about to burst into angry tears. 

And then the anger on Hermione’s face slips and she just looks lost and miserable. “I’m not- I can’t do this with you when I don’t know where to stop.”

“‘Mione…” Ron considers reaching for her, but right now, he can’t bear the idea of being in her arms.

A million things flash across Hermione’s face, too fast to read, like those strange Muggle… _programs_ on the… _telly-vision._ Fast forward and jerky. She seems to settle on something, and her expression tightens a bit, hardens a bit. The sides of her mouth turn down a little.

“ _I’m_ going to study,” she says shortly, and then she turns and leaves.

The swish of her wild hair leaves the air behind her smelling of flowers and the breeze too cold on Ron’s skin.

He can’t help watching her walk away as she ducks her head down- is she crying- but no, she’s just reaching for a book she’d tucked away when she’d caught up with him… and five minutes ago they’d been teasing and smiling, laughing like the happy ending the heroes are supposed to get.

And now… 

“Blimey,” he says weakly, running his hands through his hair, and then, with emphasis, “ _Shit_.”

 _I can’t do this_ sounds a lot like a rejection or break up. 

Bloody hell, he hates to even think of it. A break up. _Them_ . He’s always felt he’d never manage to hold onto someone like Hermione, to catch a girl like that. Not that anyone could come close to being like Hermione; there really could only be _Hermione._

He just thought- well, he thought _getting the girl_ was the hardest part. He never imagined _keeping up_ a relationship took much effort. Once two people start dating, they establish they like each other. Hell, he _loves_ her. What else is there to figure out?

This, apparently. And that, and that other thing, and this one too, and how have his parents managed to do it so well?

“What was that about?” Ginny asks out of nowhere, and Ron nearly jumps out of his skin. She’s staring at him, seemingly unable to decide whether to be pissed at Hermione for pissing him off or pissed at him for pissing Hermione off. 

“What was what about?”

“Her.” Ginny gestures after Hermione’s form, which slips through the great doors just as Ron turns his head to look. “You.”

Merlin on a fucking broomstick, the only conversation Ron wants to avoid more than the one he just fucked up is this one. “Nothing.”

Ginny scowls at him, her passion and ferocity frighteningly dark.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve hexed your kneazle,” Ron grumbles, suddenly feeling defensive, “It’s not my fault you’re too nosy.”

Ginny’s eyes burn, orange flames. Her mouth tightens. “You don’t need to be nosy to hear two people shouting at each other.”

Had they been shouting. They had, Ron realizes with a jolt, remembering the rip of the words he’d spewed against his throat. How much had Ginny heard. “Then maybe you should’ve _left!_ Go chase after Luna or something, I can’t deal with you too.”

“Oh can’t you?” Ginny’s fists clench at the sides, and Ron’s eyes flick down to them.

“Nope.” Not today. Not when she’s like this.

“She’s not- I don’t follow her around,” Ginny insists, suddenly flushing and breaking their staring contest.

She… _she_? Ron falters, blinking quickly, and tries to remember if Luna ever told him- has he been misgendering Luna? “She?”

Ginny blinks and snaps her mouth shut, then sets her jaw. “Listen, whatever’s up with you and Hermione, you should probably tell her what’s wrong.”

Ron’s sister is stubborn to the boot and gentle as a bludger, so when she tries to be soft like she is now, it comes off rough as sandpaper, scraping against Ron’s skin, angry and irritating. “Relationship advice from you? Harry and Luna and Michael Corner still in your corner-” he spares a wince for this last bit.

“Leave Luna out of this,” Ginny growls. 

“Whatever Gin, you really oughta think about being less of a hypocrite.” The joke, of course, being that he doesn’t realize he’s repeating Hermione’s accusation until it’s already out of his mouth. It comes back to slap him in the face, which is what he gets for lashing out at Ginny. 

Life right now is shit.

Ginny glares, looking on the edge of a particularly vehement stinging hex, or perhaps one of her infamous Bat-Bogey hexes. “A hypocrite?”

“You heard me, _little sister._ ” He’s too angry to actually come up with a good response to her, but the words seem to do the trick. Little sister and big brother are like pet names for them, a constant reminder that they’re valid girls and boys respectively.

Ginny pissed and excessively feral about it, actually shakes her fist like a play character before storming off, muttering loudly. “A hypocrite. Sure, yeah, me, I’m the hypocrite…”

Ron’s surprised that’s all the reaction she gives, but he isn’t complaining.

Still, she marches away rather purposefully, and the determination in her stride is mildly terrifying.

She’s going to do _something_ , he’s sure of it, and he doesn’t yet know whether he’ll like it, especially if it involves him, which chances are, it might.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t sure whether to mark this Mature or Teen+, as I consider it on the edge(?) so please let me know if you think the rating should change.

Hypocrite? Really?

Of all the things. Ginny’s halfway surprised Ron even knows how to use the word  _ hypocrite _ and is apparently familiar enough with the word to throw it around unprompted in an everyday siblings’ spat.

Yesterday’s was admittedly worse than usual- all siblings have their ups and downs, and all siblings fight differently, but Ron and Ginny have always had a sort of camaraderie. Or Ginny thinks they do anyway. Maybe because they’re at the bottom of the pile of Weasleys or because they’re both trans, or they hang around the same people.

Usually, they get on perfectly fine, or even better than just fine.

Ginny still remembers one time, when she’d made the Quidditch team. Somebody had made a comment intended to be a compliment, on what a man Ginny is out on the pitch. Aggressive, they meant, determined as hell. Brute force and fire. Ginny had wanted to say that women are just as aggressive and determined, brutal and fiery. Only, she’d been too busy shrinking into herself, wondering if they even knew she’s trans, looking at herself in the full body mirror of the locker room and wondering how cis women felt when someone made a comment like that.

They probably didn’t feel like peeling their skin off like a bodysuit and hurling around meaninglessly for an exit they knew didn’t exist. They probably didn’t look in the mirror and feel trapped and wrong. They probably didn’t dance between accepting themselves in the body they have to hating everything about it in the span of a single, casual, everyday sports comment.

Ron fought that battle for her, angry and spluttering and indignant and righteous and loving when Ginny lost touch with her own love for herself for a moment. Ron talked that person’s ear off and chased Ginny down as soon as she left the locker room and they played Quidditch until Ginny reclaimed herself in the wide open sky, peppered with stars. They stayed out far past midnight.

Ron, Ginny heard, got an earful from several teachers, and Hermione for sleeping during class. But he said he didn’t regret it with such an earnest smile, Ginny had to believe him.

Ron is like that. Almost always.

What was  _ with _ him yesterday? He lashed out like an insulted hippogriff, the absolute arse. Though with considerably less finesse. Ginny’s brother isn’t the kind to hurl sharp insults- he himself is not quite sharp enough to come up with anything very cutting. Instead, his anger hits her like a battering ram, knocking the wind out of her with its sheer energy. It doesn’t matter what he said, it matters that what he said was so clearly intended to hurt her. His desire to hurt her hurts more than any words can. 

What in all hell is up with him.

Hypocrite.

Not being upfront with her feelings towards Harry is nothing like Ron avoiding important conversations with Hermione. Ron and Hermione are a couple, for Merlin’s sake. And Ginny and Harry are different. Which is a conversation she still has to have.

_ I’ll show him _ , she thinks furiously,  _ I’ll talk to Harry and then who’ll be the hypocrite? Not me. _

Any students, milling about the hallways give her wide berth, likely due to the fact that she probably looks livid right now, and is well known for her hexes. She’s quite proud of that. They should be afraid. She’s on a mission, and if anyone stops her, Merlin help her, she will hex them halfway up their arse. Ron can go fuck himself.

Sure enough, Harry’s in the kitchen. House elves bustle all around them, preparing food and squeaking about  _ Harry Potter is being here, Harry Potter is wanting food for Mister Draco Malfoy. _

Harry, smiling like a child in a candy store, and already devouring a slice of apple treacle tart, turns to Ginny just as she spots Luna, kneeling in a corner, and forgets for a moment how to speak. Luna’s got whipped cream in a little dot on the tip of her nose, and she’s laughingly trying to lick it off. Her eyes sparkle, and loose locks of hair fall into her eyes, catching on her earrings as they fall.

She looks so happy, as if settling on this pronoun has unlocked an open well for her. She’s never looked so free as she does now.

“Gin!” Harry exclaims, and breaks her moment.

“Hey.” She marches up to him. “I need to talk to you.” Luna looks up from the small crowd of House Elves at her knees, offering her a napkin, which she graciously waves away in favor of continuing to fail to lick it up her nose. “Hi Luna.” Her heart jumps at the open smile Luna gives her.

Harry looks down at the floppy-eared elf at his own feet, watching him expectantly. “Just a moment, the House Elves tell me Draco hasn’t been eating the food I asked them to send him.”

_ Of course not, it’s from his archenemy _ . Ginny doesn’t have time for this- Harry might worry himself over Malfoy for days before remembering that Ginny exists. “Let me rephrase that. I’m going to talk to you right now.”

She grabs his arm, pulling him firmly into the hallway, through the portrait, which begins to swing shut behind them.

“Oi!” Harry sticks his foot out before it can close and sticks his head through. “He likes apple, try apples-!”

With a huff, Ginny yanks him back out. Merlin on a broomstick, Harry can’t pay attention to her for a minute without interruption. It isn’t Harry’s fault- perhaps on her part she hasn’t exactly been trying to be the focus of his attention for… well, if she’s honest, a month, but that’s besides the point.

“Merlin, was that really necessary?” Harry rubs his elbow when Ginny releases it, looking faintly put out.

_ So sorry to have ruined your mood, _ Ginny thinks sourly. Out loud she says, “Only because you made it necessary.”

“What is it?”

It must be a sign of how badly they’re matched that is easy as anything to say it. “I’m breaking up with you.” She didn’t mean to sound quite so excited about it, but there is. 

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to notice. His face becomes a picture of absolute surprise, his eyes going wide, and he takes a stumbling step back. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re better off friends.”

A couple chattering Hufflepuffs stumble by, a pair of girls looking besottedly at each other and holding each others’ hands. Longing swells in Ginny;s stomach, reminding her again how much she wishes she had the everyday strength and quiet bravery other people seem to have. She’d never noticed the little things until the big things were out of the way.

Harry blinks. “You don’t…” he flushes, “like me like that anymore?”

“Do  _ you _ like _ me _ ?” She knows he doesn’t, but he probably doesn’t quite know that yet. He’s never been very observant. Ginny almost smiles affectionately, but she thinks he’s rather like a big brother, and then he thinks of her other brother-  _ Ron _ .

“ _ Yes, _ ” Harry says fiercely, as if the mere idea of him  _ not _ liking her is an offence.

“You know what I mean.” She reaches deep inside her and pulls her inner Hermione out, as small as that piece of her may be, and fixes Harry with a knowing stare. She tries to embody her mother at her worst.

Harry runs a hand through his hair sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot. “Er… well…” He fidgets so hard, a quill tumbles out of his pocket.

“See, exactly.” Ginny can’t help feeling a wash in relief. “You’re not even upset right now either.”

Harry immediately twists up his face in a very bad attempt to look unhappy. He looks like he’s come across a very curious taste. “ _ I am. _ ”

_ Oh for Merlin’s sake _ . Harry and his damn overkill kindness. “But you don’t fancy me,” she clarifies impatiently. This would be so much easier if Harry could read people, understand the way Luna always does.

The halls are beginning to fill, and Ginny resists the urge to tap her foot impatiently. 

“Not quite,” Harry concedes uncomfortably.

“And I don’t fancy you.”

Harry scrunches his face. “Ouch.”

“So we’re friends now,” Ginny pushes on, wondering if Harry’s going to contribute anything to the conversation. 

“Yeah. Yes.” Harry grins. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Well don’t go about sounding too heartbroken over it.”

Harry grinds and shoves at her shoulder. It’s so easy and familiar, as careless as a brother. Behind him, the portrait opens and Luna slips out, graceful and smooth, as if she’s a corporeal ghost.”

“You’re not exactly crying either.”

Luna, for some unknown reason- perhaps only because she is Luna- carries a fork in one hands and a plate piled high with whipped cream and absolutely nothing else as she leaves, and the braid halfway down her back opens into loose hair because it isn’t tied, almost swaying enough to flick messily into the plate of whipped cream when Luna turns her head to the sound of Harry’s voice and smiles softly at Ginny.

Of course, her hair does not get in her whipped cream, because that sort of thing doesn’t happen to Luna. Luna is the kind of person who walks through the world completely unaffected by it unless she wants to be. And then, of course, the world reworks itself to help her get there. 

Only when Luna’s made it around the corner does Ginny realize Harry’s still looking at her. She’s not sure whether Luna slipping by was a blessing or a curse- it both lightened her mood and dropped it on its arse, because she did brighten the world for a moment- but now she’s gone and Ginny wants to chase after her like a lunatic.

“Lots of hypocrisy today, I guess,” she manages. She frowns. That only serves to punch her in the gut, a reminder of Ron.

Harry’s brow wrinkles and he touches her elbow. She hadn’t realized she’s got her arms crossed. “You okay? Go talk to Luna, she always cheers you up.”

Is she that transparent? “Oh, and you’ll talk to Malfoy then?”

Harry only blinks, the idiot. He’s very imperceptive. “Draco? Why would I talk to Draco? Ron’s my best mate.”

Smothering the urge to bang her head against the solid, very painful looking stone wall behind her, Ginny manages the enormous feat of not groaning out loud. “You’re blind as a bat. Don’t talk to Ron.” She glowers at the name on her tongue. “He’s getting his grumbling all over everyone else.” 

“Hypocrisy, you said?”

Ginny huffs. She’s  _ not _ getting her grumbling all over the place; she is  _ using _ Ron’s grumbling as fuel to finally get done what she should have weeks ago, when she realized with a jolt that she’d fallen head over heels for Luna Lovegood.

Unfortunately, she realizes that snapping back that she isn’t will only further the idea that she is, so she turns abruptly and calls over her shoulder, “I’m going to head to the pitch.” 

**~~~**

“So…” Harry starts as they make their way up to the Eighth Year’s dorms, clearly sensing the charged space between Ron and Hermione. Hermione is in a huff, and hasn’t even so much as glanced Ron’s way since their fight yesterday. “Ginny broke up with me.”

Ron trips over a step and Harry catches him before he falls, because Hermione, who’d picked up the habit of walking by Ron’s side lately, very pointedly switched back to sandwiching Harry between them. “She did?” he asks when he straightens up. “Blimey, I’m sorry mate. You didn’t like her at all that much anyhow yea?”

“I did, just not, you know.” Harry gestures vaguely. “Like that.”

Ron tries to imagine how that conversation went. He supposes Ginny really can get something done if she wants to, and it only serves to emphasize the contrast between the two of them. He doesn’t miss the irony of it for a moment- Ginny promptly fixed her couple’s problems in the span of a day. He’d like very much to be like that.

“So is she after Luna then?” Hermione’s soft voice, warm and curious, fills Ron with longing to reach out and pull her close again, to run his fingers under her shirt and trace her shoulder blades, the line of her back.

“She likes Luna?” Harry mutters to the portrait, and the frame swings open, allowing them through.

Ron steps back to let Hermione through, and Hermione marches past with her nose in the air. 

“I reckon so,” Ron sighs helplessly, watching Hermione ahead of him. Then, tentatively, “‘Mione’s always right, she is.”

Hermione doesn’t respond except to tip her chin higher in acknowledgement. After all, it’s true. It only makes Rom want her back in his arms more, her soft smile melting the tight line of her mouth.

The common room is empty right now; this late at night, most students have gone to the bed. Most students that don’t have Hermione dragging them to the library for hours after dinner, that is. Probably they’re sleeping now, something Ron doesn’t think he'll be able to do tonight.

The wrongness between him and Hermione burns at him, nags at him, a sharp ache in his stomach, a dull throb in his heart, a buzz over his skin like the whole world is wrong.

Even Harry, idiot extraordinaire (save for Ron) noticed it. “Er, I’ll just head to bed, shall I? I’ll see you two in the morning?” He made his way to the foot of the stairs, hands in his pockets, looking between Ron and hermione awkwardly.

“Mate-” Ron pleads weakly, fully aware of what is happening. Harry’s as subtle as an erumpent trouncing about a Muggle square. 

Harry waves over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Hermione calls after him, and Harry smiles, back at them, shoots Ron a pointed look, and disappears up the stairs. 

“Bugger…”

For a moment, Hermione stands stiffly beside Ron, and the inches between them feel like miles. If Ron could just find that Gryffindor courage in him and…

Hermione’s headed off to her own set of stairs now, turning abruptly, decisively, and walking with purpose, the way she does everything, only this time, her purpose is very obviously to get away from Ron, and if that doesn’t hit him like a punch in the gut.

Before he even quite realizes what he’s saying, he’s reaching for her arm. “‘Mione-  _ hey, ‘Mione _ \- wait.” He tugs at the edge of her sleeve that he manages to snag, his heart pounding painfully in his throat. 

The fireplace licks a warm glow up Hermione’s face as she turns, her chin tucked to her chest. She waits.

Only, now that she’s waiting, Ron’s mind has gone blank. “Let’s just- let’s talk, yeah?”

This seems to be enough, because Hermione takes Ron’s hand from her sleeve and clasps it with both hands, turning her face up to meet Ron’s eyes. She’s amazing, Hermione is. It takes her but a moment to flip from tight strung hurt to open and compassionate- her shoulders relax and her mouth softens. 

They make their way over to a sofa, and Hermione settles herself in, tucking her body up against Ron’s. Ron’s heart fills so much, he fears it’ll expand past his body. Hermione’s fingers trance paths over his hand, lines from one freckle to the next.

“What is it?” she murmurs, her thumb running over his fingernails.

Ron swallows. “Well.” He looks down at their linked hands, pale and freckled, laced with elegant, long fingers, calloused where one would hold a quill.

“ _ Well _ ?” Hermione repeats, sounding suddenly very urgent and shrill. Her fingers pause in their path over the back of his hand.

“You and me- I mean we-” Ron stumbles, trying to say it without actually, well,  _ saying _ it. Hermione goes stiff against him, pulling out from under his arm. “When it’s just us I-I…”

Hermione interrupts, even more shrill this time. “Ronald Weasley, if you’re going to break up with me, at least have the bravery to say the words out loud, to my face.”

_ Break up? _ Ron starts, and grabs Hermione’s hands back, holding them tight in his own. “I- What- No, Hermione, that’s not- I’m not breaking it off, I  _ love _ you, you  _ know _ I love you!”

For once in her life, Hermione seems to have been rendered speechless. She opens her mouth and closes it a couple times, and Ron’s heart stops in his chest. She did know that- she had to have known that- but Ron knows it’s a whole other thing to hear it out loud. Hell, it was something else to say the words himself, heavy with the truth and sweet with feeling on his tongue.

“Oh. Well.” Hermione seems to gather herself, though her eyes shine and she smiles like she’s trying not to. “I love you too.” Ron feels as if he could fly without even a Cleansweep. Hermione’s mouth twists, half thoughtful and half self deprecating. “I suppose I would have noticed if we were actually growing apart, wouldn’t I?”

Ron’s gut twists, black with the mere idea of them ever splitting ways. “Certainly before I did,” he manages to say.

Hermione’s face suggests she’s not very keen to think on it either. “Then what is it?”

Ron flushes. This is perhaps a less devastating subject, but still has to stare into the fire and pretend the heat on cheeks is only from the flickering flames. “When you- when we-” he stutters. 

One of the pieces of wood falters and sends up a small shower of sparks.

“Yes?” Hermione prompts when Ron doesn’t say anything else.

Weakly, Ron gestures to his crotch, and then to hers, and mimes reaching for her, his face aflame. “It just feels… you know…” he looks down at his lap, his trousers, and the place where he distinctly lacks a dick.

His face must show it, because Hermione makes a soft noise and squeezes his hands before releasing them, instead reaching for his shoulders. “Oh, Ron.”

She leans into him, the bow of her lips inches from his, her hands pulling him in. She rests her forehead on his and slides seamlessly into his open arms. 

“‘Mione,” Ron whispers into her hair, which spills over his shoulder, the comforting weight of her halfway in his lap is worth a thousand words.

Everything else around them fades; Hermione is millions of times more brilliant than the sparks of the fire as she holds him tight and tells him fiercely, “Not having a penis doesn’t make you any less of a man. You are very much a man.”

Despite the rush of warmth that sends washing over Ron, has to explain, haltingly, “Well it doesn’t much matter what it makes me when I  _ feel _ like it makes me less of a boy either way.”

Hermione strokes his side and presses her face into the crook of Ron’s neck the way she knows he likes it. He loves every curve and dip of her body, but it’s different on him. It isn’t right.

Hermione seems to be weighing her words in her mouth as she speaks them, her lips brushing the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I don’t want to pretend to understand how it feels, but thank you for telling me. Just tell me when you want me to stop, okay? And I’ll stop.”

Since there isn’t a distance between them to close, Ron pulls Hermione in tighter, holding her like she’s everything he’s got. “You’re the best.”

“And if you ever feel ready for a conversation about boundaries you’ll tell me?”

Ron swallows. A conversation about boundaries. Yeah, he can do that. “Yeah and before that…” Hermione’s pulled her hand up by now, straddling him against the couch and pressing into him, her hands bracketing his face. He’s suddenly filled with fiery desire for her, to have her, to watch her soft mouth fall open and run his hands over her body the way he’s only let himself think about in dreams. “I could- you know-” he cups her breasts and she makes a sound, moving in to kiss him.

He breaks off his train of thought to kiss her back, and when she opens her mouth, he forgets everything he’d been thinking of- Hermione’s as good at kissing as she is at everything else, and her hands stay decidedly above his waist.

When they break away, only for enough to gasp for air, Ron finishes, “Do you.” He clarifies by sliding his hands slowly up her thighs, mouthing at her pulse fluttering in her neck.

Hermione makes another noise, soft and demanding at once, and kisses him again. “I’m not saying no to that,” she murmurs, “but some day I’d like to reciprocate, I want you to love yourself.”

Ron can’t help breaking into a smile. “Yes mum.”

Hermione lays her head against his shoulder and snuggles into him, warm and strong and  _ here _ . “Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever call me mum while we’re snogging again.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hullo.” Ron sits down by Ginny, and when he settles in, she uses it as an excuse to scoot closer to Luna, who is very seriously constructing a face out of her pancakes and fruit salad.

Today Luna’s hair cascades down her back in loose braids, still untied and fluttery at the ends. She looks very nice, and she seems unusually undisturbed when people address her as she/her. There’s a light in her eyes Ginny hadn’t seen in a while.

Then surprising Harry and Ginny both, Hermione comes up behind Ron, wrapping her arms around him and kissing the smudge of chocolate sauce Ron has somehow already managed to get on her cheek.

Harry blinks at them and pushes his glasses up, looking comically shocked. Ginny doesn’t blame him- last she say of them, they were ignoring each other so determinedly, she’d guessed they wouldn’t finish up this row for another week, at  _ least _ .

Instead, here these two sit, Hermione slipping in beside her boyfriend and leaning into him, him pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hair and stealing a very large bite off her plate, which he’s made for her.

Ginny laughs half incredulously. “He _ llo _ . I see you’re no longer in a pissy mood.” She spears a syrup soaked pancake with her fork and takes a strawberry, trying to get them lined up in one bite. It doesn’t work.

“Who, me?” Ron grins and wraps his arm and Hermione, who smiles, already pulling out her homework schedule to duck today’s writing. It looks thoroughly marked up, and Ginny looks away, not at all ready to think about today’s schoolwork. “I never.” 

Ginny watches them fall back into their groove, their smiles just a bit more tender than the way they were before their fight. They bicker, laugh, and roll their eyes, but she can see the soft looks they trade back and forth.

The next time she sees the two of them is at dinner, having skipped most of lunch to fly about the pitch, and when the two of them excuse themselves minutes after Ron’s finished, catcalls follow them out of the Great Hall.

“They got it together.”

“Yeah.” Ginny smiles after them, and Luna, who’s sitting at the Ravenclaw table this evening, sends Ginny a smile when Ginny leaves for her own room.

Her heart skips in her chest and she smiles back, miming tucking a flower behind her car on a whim, even though it’s such an obscure gesture no one would really know what she’s trying to convey.

Except, of course, Luna, who pulls a white daisy from her pocket and tucks it behind her ear, because apparently daisies are just the sort of thing Luna keeps in her pocket.

Ginny goes to sleep feeling strangely light and smiley, like the giggling school girl she’s never wanted to be. It’s a nice feeling.

Come morning, she pulls on her robes and all but races down the stairs, knowing Luna will already be there- she’s just got a feeling.

Luna is. Luna’s hair this time is down, all of it, in a way Ginny doesn’t think she’s ever seen before, completely loose and falling down her back in smooth ripples. She sits at the Gryffindor table where Ginny often is.

“Good morning.” Luna smiles when she spots Ginny hovering at the end of the Gryffindor table like an idiot, gaping like a lovestruck fool.

Hermione, up and scribbling on a scroll while she eats, looks up, and waves a couple fingers absently before she hunches back over, and Ginny remembers that Luna isn’t the only one here, even if she is the center of the universe and currently the only one that matters.

“Morning.” Ginny snags herself a couple chocolate pastries and drops down next to Luna, trying not to notice the way her leg brushes Luna as she settles into her seat and trying not to smile as Luna turns towards her, seemingly automatically, as if maybe Luna finds herself drawn to Ginny just as much as vice versa.

“Morning,” Ron grins as he wanders in with Harry, looking as if he had come out half asleep and just now been woken by the sight of food. He nudges Hermione with his nose and kisses her cheek before shoving lightly at her side. “Oi. Good morning.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione gives in, gifting him with a hug and a kiss that has Ginny turning her eyes away- not that she minds. It gives her an excuse to study the mosaic in Luna’s irises, the long, pale curl of her lashes. Her soft smile, as if made of clouds.

When he’s done kissing, Ron catches Ginny’s raised eyebrows and flushes, looking down with a grin.

Ginny kicks his foot under the table.

“ _ Hey _ !”

Tipping her head to indicate Hermine, Ginny smiles. “Good job.”

“You’re an inspiration, little sister.” This time, Ron says it with warmth, and Ginny suddenly feels very grateful for getting lucky enough to have a brother like ron. Even if he does stuff his face like a pig.

Smirking, Ginny catches Harry gazing off at the Slytherin table and laughs, turning back to Ron. “Why, because I broke up with this idiot? I hate to break it to you, but there are better things to be inspired by.” 

Luna starts beside her, her fork clattering against her plate in a very un-Luna-like way. “You broke up with Harry. Ginny gets the tugging feeling in her chest that reminds her of the feel of Luna’s hands in hers as they walk, the shape of her face between her hands as she stroked Luna’s cheek with her thumb.

“Yeah. Neither of us were really upset, we just had been putting off breaking up for a while, I think.” It seems like the sort of thing that would upset her, but Harry’s still her friend.

“You were?” Luna looks over at her now, one hand running a thumb over the wood table slowly, back and forth, back and forth.

It occurs to Ginny suddenly that somewhere in there Seamus shoved himself between Luna and Dean, and now Luna’s pressed really rather close, close enough that Ginny could count her eyelashes under her breath and Luna would hear.

“Yeah,” she says dumbly, all thought gone from her head. Luna’s facing the windows and the clear sunlight of the morning makes her eyes stunning and crystalline, like shattered stained glass. Her heart flutters so fast she can’t count the beats, but she can feel them so acutely she wonders if Luna can see them jumping out of her chest. She reaches out to Luna’s hand on the table, stilling its strokes.

“So do you…” Luna begins tentatively, “do you have a boyfriend or…” her voice goes quiet, “something?”

Ginny’s throat goes dry. “Luna…” she half-breathes, half-sighs, and Luna’s fingers tighten around Ginny’s own, the only warning she gets before Luna covers Ginny’s mouth with her own.

Luna.

Kissing Luna.

All that’s left of Ginny is ash, because she’s all gone up in flames. All that matters right now is the point where Luna’s lips press against her own softly, sending her heart into a frenzy and her mind takes a vacation and her hands start thinking for themselves as they move up to run through that glorious, beautiful, waterfall of hair, feeling just as smooth and silky and thick as it looked the second before Luna kissed her and she closed her eyes.

Kissing Luna is flying, is sunlight, is want and give and receive, is Luna’s fingers pulling her hair tie out and gentle fingers gripping her waist.

After kissing Luna is very nice too- Luna’s cheeks are flushed and pink, and her eyes sparkle in a way that no sunlight can replicate, her mouth- which Ginny just  _ kissed _ \- tugging up into a smile.

“I thought,” Ginny murmurs, “you said- about pronouns and-”

“I’m just me,” Luna kisses the tip of Ginny’s nose, and Ginny feels herself flush, smiling giddily. “I like she-her.”

Ginny winds one more perfect strand around her finger, the solid wood of the bench digging into her calf because she’s turned so far towards Luna, and doesn’t mind one bit. “You’re sure?”

Luna watches Ginny’s fingers fiddle around with one gleaming lock. “It feels right… it doesn’t really fit into words very well.” She sounds mildly annoyed with language as a whole for this failing.

“I know.” Ginny remembers Ron saying something once, when she was in first year, and knowing exactly what he meant, but also knowing the words he’d used didn’t quite capture it completely- nothing really could. “Mum always wanted to understand, but I never knew how to explain it.” It hadn’t been a bit smothering at times, Mum had.

Across the table, Ron’s head popped up from his scrambled eggs. “I love Mum, but she wants to know everything about her kids, you know?”

“She means well.” The statement is an understatement if there ever has been one. Mum always wanted to know, and it distressed her to no end to see her kids hurt and not know how to heal them, because she didn’t know how it felt. She didn’t know what to do. It had hurt them all, seeing her so much at a loss.

Luna seems to read that much from Ginny’s expression, because she asks, “Does it hurt?”

Ginny considers. Before it had, but now… Now Mum knows how to help, though he doesn’t know it feels, and now she’s got Ron by her side, always there when she needs him, always understanding and ready to take up shield and sword on her behalf. “No, she loves us. And she doesn’t push us to tell her exactly what’s wrong anymore.”

Ron speaks up. “It hurt me,” he admits.

Hermione quietly puts down her quill and squeezes Ron’s hand with a soft smile, and Ginny realizes Luna hasn’t let go of her own yet.

“It was different for you,” Ron told Ginny, “You came second. She’d learned from me, see?”

Ginny thought back, remembering before their Hogwarts days. “Mum always wanted a girl,” she remembered, “She gave you dresses- Merlin she did you up in bows.”

Ron snickered. “You hated me.”

Ginny kicked him under the table again and pointed at him with her fork. “I was jealous, okay?”

“Do you remember when you stole my clothes? And Mom prettied you up instead when she found you in a dress.”

“She gave me a hair growing potion so she could give me pigtails.”

“I never seen you more happy in my life.” Ron says, smiling around more scrambled eggs.

Hermione shakes her head. “Grammer, Ron.”

“Oh, leave off.”

Ginny tunes out Ron and Hermione’s contented bickering and turns to Luna. “Did you ever… did your parents ever…”

“My mother dressed me up in anything I wanted when I was little. She let me wear a pinks upside down wastebasket once,” Luna says, confidingly, “With holes cut in it.”

That must be where Luna gets it from. “Didn’t have any papers in it, did it?”

Luna shakes her head. “No, it was very clean.”

“That’s good?”

Luna eats some more fruit, pushing the pieces on her plate into shapes contemplatively. “My Dad’s a bit wonky the way I am, so he never much minded anything at all. He always called me whatever I asked him to.”

A swell of pleasure blooms in Ginny’s chest on behalf of Luna, and she reaches out, feeling inordinately shy, and tucks one of the chin length bangs Luna’s got in her face behind her ear, smiling.

“I should’ve tried  _ she _ earlier, don’t you think?”

On the one hand, finding the right word is euphoria like no other, but on the other, Ginny knows finding it is a journey one cannot simply find a shortcut through. “You’re here now, aren’t you,” she decides to say, “you’ve made it through.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure?” Ginny presses one of her flakey pastries flat with her fork, suppressing the urge to stab it nervously.

“Yes.”

“And…” Forcing herself to look up, Ginny finds Luna watching her, amusement dancing her eyes as she takes in the mutilated pastry. “And this?”

Luna reaches for her. “Yes.”

Abandoning her fork and turning her body to face Luna, Ginny managed a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Luna’s face breaks into an open smile. “Yes,” she says, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Ginny all but throws herself at Luna, fully aware that they’re still in the Great Hall, and kisses Luna for the second time in the past half hour, Ginny kisses Luna solidly on the lips, and slid her fingers through Luna’s hair. Luna kisses her back gently, tipping her head to the side and pulling Ginny into her, sending Ginny’s heart into a frenzy.

“Luna,” she murmurs against Luna’s lips when they broke the kiss, because that’s the only thing in her mind,  _ Luna, Luna, Luna _ .

Luna smiles at her, winding her fingers through Ginny’s hair. The strands tug on her scalp pulled her in closer. “The nargles left.”

_ The nargles _ . Oh, Luna. “I really like you,” Ginny blurts out as if compelled. Luna is something else. She is a wonder, three dimensional abstract art of an angel. She is also, apparently, interested. Ginny’s halfway convinced this morning is a dream.

Luna turns back to the food laden table before them, but leans comfortingly into Ginny’s side. “I really like you too.”

**~~~**

“Sorry.” Ron settles himself beside Ginny, glad that he’s still able to get into the Gryffindor Common Room even though he’s an Eighth Year now.

Ginny’s half curled up on the sofa and has a paper so full of blots, Ron knows she’ll have to write up another version to turn in, unless she’s taking notes for herself, which she never does.

“Shut up,” Ginny grins up at him, pulls the book out from under her parchment and mimes whacking him with it.

A feeling of balance Ron hadn’t realized he’s been missing returns, and he flicks her nose the way he used to before either of them were old enough to go to Hogwarts. “You’re supposed to say you’re sorry too.”

Ginny shrugs and extends her legs into his lap, a sure sign of affection. “I don’t like conventions.”

They both know it. Ginny doesn’t like apologies, given or received. Still, Ron pokes at her, “You were snappy at me too.”

Seeming to consider, Ginny sits herself up, letting her feet settle on the floor instead. “So I was,” she concludes, and looks at him, “I’m sorry.”

It isn’t often she tosses about those two words. “You’re in a good mood then,” Ron can’t help but say.

“Hey!” Ginny’s grinning again now.

She shoves at him a little, getting ink spots on the red stripes of his tie. The air between them settles back to normal.

Putting his hands on his knees, Ron stands. “Well I wanted to say I’m sorry and now I have.” He musses her hair, which hangs loose from its usual ponytail.

“It’s alright. It’s all sorted now anyhow.” Ginny runs her hand through it, straight back, and the strands settle.

Ron snickers. “I’ll say it is! Give Harry a moment, won’t you?” He doesn’t mean it. Harry seems delighted Ginny’s moved on so quickly- if anything, it had appeared as though Harry hadn’t broken it off for fear of hurting Ginny, and seeing her with Luna seemed to bring Harry a ridiculous amount of relief.

Ginny brushes him off with a laugh. “Please, like he’s even noticed me missing. He’s got you and Hermione anyways, and everyone seems happy enough to me.”

“Very happy,” Ron agreed, “Like, say, Luna…”

Ginny, who’d mostly returned to her ink-splattered work, locked up again and this time levitated the book, smacking him with flicks of her wrist.

“Oi! Hey, wait a minute-! I was teasing, I was teasing-!” Ron runs about the room, plagued by an eager textbook, though in fairness the textbook doesn’t hit all that hard. “I’m happy for you, that’s all! Merlin, have mercy. I’m your brother-!”

The textbook stops thumping him just as he’s reading himself to hurl a cushion at it, and Ginny laughs at him as he rubs the back of his head, frowning.

“I’m happy for me too.” Ginny smiles widely.

“Oh, you’ve gone cheesy on me,” Ron whimpers, and shoves his face in the pillow instead. “What is the world coming to?”

Ginny pushes him upright and leans into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It always reminds him of when they used to find comfort in each other in their earliest Hogwarts years, when they were still subject to crude remarks from idiots who hadn’t yet gotten word that Ginny’s hexes were a force to be feared.

In later years everyone knew it, and now there isn’t a problem to be found.

“I’m happy for  _ us _ ,” Ron mumbles, beginning to nod off, and under his arm, Ginny stands, hauling him up. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” she laughs, “big brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been a genius with endings...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I assume you're here because of the HP Transfest, but if you've simply happened across this fic, please check out the other works posted to that collection! Say hi on Tumblr @[tigerlilycorinne-drarry-me](https://tigerlilycorinne-drarry-me.tumblr.com/) or on my main @[tigerlilycorinne](https://tigerlilycorinne.tumblr.com/)


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